A series of reflections on the intersections among mental health, faith, and ministry. Beginning with his own experience, Finnegan-Hosey shares ways communities of faith can be present with those suffering from mental illness and crises. Weaving together personal testimony, theological reflection, and practical ministry experience, he offers a message of hope for those suffering and for friends and faith communities struggling to care for them. Ultimately, his journey of recovery and healing reveals the need for a theological understanding of a vulnerable God, important not solely for ministry with those with mental health struggles, but offering a hopeful vision forward for the church. “In Christ on the Psych Ward , David Finnegan-Hosey does something the Church has had difficulty doing regarding mental illness; he opens up the blinds and he lets the light in. David's story is compelling, his voice clear, his insight profound, and his subject matter critical. A book like this is long overdue, both in and outside the Church. It will save lives.” ―John Pavolvitz, author of A Bigger Table: Building Messy, Authentic, and Hopeful Spiritual Community “David Finnegan-Hosey does not offer pious platitudes or easy answers but authentic Christian hope in the face of illnesses that affect nearly every Church, family, and organization today.” ―Rev. David W. Peters, author of Post-Traumatic God: How the Church Cares for People Who Have Been to Hell and Back “David Finnegan-Hosey does not offer pious platitudes or easy answers but authentic Christian hope in the face of illnesses that affect nearly every Church, family, and organization today.” ―Rev. David W. Peters, author of Post-Traumatic God: How the Church Cares for People Who Have Been to Hell and Back DAVID FINNEGAN-HOSEY is the College Chaplain and Director of Campus Ministries at Barton College in Wilson, North Carolina. He is the author of Christ on the Psych Ward . In 2011, David was diagnosed with bipolar disorder after a series of psychiatric hospitalizations. He now speaks and writes about the intersections among mental illness, mental health, and faith. David lives in Wilson with his wife, Leigh, and their dog, Penny Lane. Christ on the Psych Ward By David Finnegan-Hosey Church Publishing Incorporated Copyright © 2018 David Finnegan-Hosey All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-89869-051-4 Contents Gratitude, Introduction: Let Me Tell You a Story, 1 Christ on the Psych Ward, 2 A Deep and Terrifying Darkness, 3 Who Told Us We Were Naked?, 4 Sufficient, 5 God's Sleeves, 6 God's Friends, 7 Diagnoses and Demons, 8 No Pill Can Fill the Hole in My Heart, Conclusion: Leaving the Labyrinth, Appendix: Mental Health Resources, CHAPTER 1 Christ on the Psych Ward In June of 2011 I had the worst week of my life. By most outside indicators, I shouldn't have been miserable. I had just finished my first year of seminary. I'd done well in my classes, made new friends, and secured the unheard of Holy Grail of a paid internship at a nearby congregation. So why did it feel like my life was falling apart? Looking back, I can list off the triggers, the seemingly small chips and cracks in the façade of wellbeing I was living behind. The impending departure of beloved roommates, a series of relationship failures, a week of on-hold frustration with our internet provider — all of these seemed, for me, to be indicators of something deeper and more dangerous, out of proportion to their individual surmountability. Rather than a series of isolated challenges, I interpreted the bumps and bruises of that summer as evidence of my failure: failure to transition into adulthood, perhaps; failure to figure out life tasks and relationships; failure, somehow, to live and love. And so it was that I found myself isolated in my basement apartment in Northeast DC, wrapped in darkness, planning how to end my life. Looking back at a journal entry from that summer, I can watch myself trying to reconstruct exactly what happened, to craft some sort of coherent narrative out of a time that felt completely fragmented and jagged. My memories of that time have a surreal quality to them, as if I am watching distorted footage of someone else's life. What I know is, at some point, I began to harm myself, something I had done in high school but thought I had left in the past. The week progressed — perhaps I should say regressed. I barely slept. Every morning I dragged myself out of bed, primarily by screaming at myself internally. I would go for a run in the heat and humidity of the DC summer, hoping in some strange sense that this would shock me out of my self-destructive state — or maybe, simply, that it would kill me. I stood on the edges of Metro platforms, daring myself to jump in front of incoming trains. In the afternoons, I went to class, appearing to all but the closest of my friends to be doing quite well, absorbing the difficult material of biblical